Rooftop
by Storage-Jar
Summary: Another one of Alex Rider's dramatic, James-Bond-like getaways. This time, he's in the heart of an overcrowded, Middle-Eastern marketplace.
1. Chapter 1

This isn't my first Alex Rider fanfic, but it was my first AR story idea that got neglected till now. It's also going to be my first multi-chapter fic. (my other story doesn't count as it was basically complied with one-shots) so wish me luck - I'm new at this. Oh, and as a side note, the title might change

Disclaimer - I own nothing, really.

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><p><em>On the coast of the vast, glittering-blue Caspian Sea was the city of Rasht. Rasht was historically nicknamed the "Gate of Europe" back when it was a major transport and business centre that linked Iran to Russia and Europe.<em>

"Oi! The boy's getting away!" A guard cried, huffing.

"Well, run _faster_! He cannot get away!" The leader growled. His face turned into an unappealing burnt-tomato shade. His growing steaming anger didn't help. Nor did his near inability to breathe from running.

_Presently, Rasht is a major trade centre as well as a tourist centre, attracting thousands of visitors from various countries like Austria, Germany, the Netherlands, and France._

Alex was darting through a marketplace in this very city, trying to lose the nine men brandishing sleek, lethal weapons not too far behind him.

Well, there were eighteen guards in total, including the leader, but Alex didn't consider half of them a threat. Only nine were professionals.

"Maybe... we should... take... a break," a second guard gasped out, panting and out of breath. He was promptly rewarded with a sharp smack in the head.

"I _said _he can_not _get away. We must catch him! Anyone say different and I will personally see to it that they get a nice whipping and then lose their job once this is over."

Hearing this, the others wisely kept their mouths shut, not voicing their thoughts on how the leader himself couldn't keep up with the boy either. Instead they focussed on breathing and the disappearing young figure.

_Rasht produces and markets rice, tea, peanuts, silk and glass. Being right next to the sea, fishing was quite popular, too._

Alex tossed and turned the bits of history he dredged from the recesses of his mind, trying to see if any of it were helpful. Alex was in a marketplace... but not just any marketplace – he was in one that was teeming with people and resembled an endless maze.

Being in an area like this when people were out of his blood... well... it was as lucky as Alex could get. True, it was hard to navigate, but he was more agile than the leader and the guards both physically and mentally. With his nimbleness, there were lots of possible escape routes. And with his creative mind, there were just so many _options, _Alex thought a bit evilly.

Options were, of course, the number of ways Alex could incapacitate the guards with his surroundings. Something Alex had always excelled at.

The only problem was the possibility of a bystander getting hurt – that, and the utter chaos he was about to cause... Alex tried not to think about it too much.

Besides, he was running for his life, from an unpleasant death, to put it mildly. Wasn't that alone enough to justify what he was about to do?

Alex scanned around him, taking in all the miniscule details, while still sprinting at full speed, a plan formulating in his head already. Adrenaline coursed through his body.

"When I get my hands on that kid, I'm going to pummel him into dust after I tear him into pieces!" This was said by the leader.

The others nodded the best they could, even though they were doubtful. This boy was so damn _quick. _Even the more experienced ones weren't sure.

The marketplace Alex was in sold just about everything you'd expect in a Middle-Eastern market.

Baskets lined with worn white fabric were filled with rich spices and herbs: he dutifully knocked each of them down as he ran past; the baskets slowed the guards down. He saved one basket of cumin powder, which he emptied out all over the guards when they came into range.

"Ahhh... aahh-choo! Sorry... I'm allergic to cumin..." A guard tried to explain.

"I couldn't care less! Just get the boy." Sometimes the leader questioned his position. When the Boss declared he was the leader of all the guards, he thought of it as a great honour. Now, he wasn't so sure. Not all the guards were competent; some previously being store keepers.

A stand had different jars and vases made of porcelain and metal with intricate designs on them. Alex breezed past, sparing them from the ten second demise they would've had if he used them in his great escape.

There was a stall selling luscious, ripe fruit: when the owner wasn't looking, Alex took a basket of them as ammo, and pushed over the others. Oranges tumbled out and rolled everywhere, tripping the guards who didn't notice them.

The sun baked down on home-made clay sculpture and wooden-carved figures.

The dust-filled air was stirred up by people hurrying through the bustling streets.

Everything about this marketplace gave off an exotic, almost timeless quality that dated back to the thirteenth century, despite how modern Rasht had become as a city.

A more experienced guard swung his bronze sword at Alex's neck. He ducked and executed a perfect back kick into the guard's pelvis. He threw an apple from his ammunition basket with such force it knocked out a guard with a gun when it made contact with the guard's face. It probably broke his nose, too, Alex thought absentmindedly. He punched another in the gut and finished him off with a hook kick before dashing off with this basket of apples.

Some other guard who was in serious need of a better hair cut, in Alex's opinion, managed to catch up to Alex. Alex swung the whole basket of apple at him and it crashed rather painfully into him. The guard recovered quickly, so Alex stole the wheelbarrow of a man pasting by (despite his protests) and heaved it the guard's way. The chicken feed in the wheelbarrow piled all over his body as the whole wheelbarrow toppled over him.

Alex looked around. Elaborate necklaces and bracelets hung on a horizontal wooden stick frame that rested on a low table, while more jewellery sprawled out across the same table beneath the dangling necklaces. Vibrant-coloured silk scarves with golden glitter billowed in the breeze from their racks.

For good measure, Alex pushed over the racks onto the guard and upturned the jewellery table to block the road and to cause a bigger commotion, making it harder to follow.

Alex was as quick as the wind, though, and had already left the scene before the table touched the ground or anybody could register what just happened. The last thing Alex wanted was regular, angry civilians after him on top of the guards.

Alex zigzagged, ducked, and rolled, sometimes even running on top of stands of avoid the knives and bullets aimed at him. With his heightened senses that came with his spy mode, he could feel the bullets coming towards him before it did – like an instinct. In fact, it _was _an instinct; a sixth sense Alex must've inherited.

Not too many people noticed the chase, strangely enough. Only a handful of people were aware, some of them being the owners whose stands Alex wrecked. Humans were curious in nature. Ironically, they were also extremely unobservant compared to animals.

As Alex ran, he saw a little dark-haired boy staring at him with amazement.

At the same time, he heard the distinct, sharp flick of a shuriken, sailing through the air even with all the noise. It was badly aimed; it would miss Alex by several feet, but it would hit the little boy dead-on.

With a burst of speed, Alex closed the distance between the boy and himself. He managed to pull the boy out of the path of the shuriken, but it sliced his own arm before it embedded into a wooden wall with a _thwack._

Alex looked at his arm. It was bleeding, but nothing too serious.

He turned to the boy. _"Are you alright?" _He spoke in a dialect he thought the boy might know. After Thailand, Alex had taken it upon himself to learn a couple dialects.

The boy seemed surprised he could speak his language. He nodded. His eyes widened when he noticed Alex's wound. _"Do you need some bandages?"_

"_Don't worry. I'm fine." _He ruffled the kid's hair. The kid sort of reminded him of himself when he was younger – curious and innocent.

Alex got down on a knee and looked him in the eyes. _"Just stay out of trouble, okay? Remember to move when knives are being thrown at you. Now, I _really_ need to go."_ Alex ran off and called back, _"Bye, kid. It was nice meeting you."_ The little boy waved back, eyes shining.

This was exactly what Alex didn't want happening: people getting caught in the crossfire. It was lucky that he got to the boy in time.

Alex decided it was time to step it up a notch.

Up ahead, dried and salted fish were displayed by a line of metal hooks attached to a suspended long metal rod. He climbed up the roof of the shop using the crates stacked to the side as a ladder, pulling himself the rest of the way up. His stomach lying flat on the roof, he reached down and grabbed the metal rod of fish.

Alex was running and leaping across rooftops, graceful and lithe, like he was born to do this.

With the elevated perspective, he could see the harbour in front to the left. Moored to the dock were mostly small fishing boats. Off to the side was a jet boat. He knew immediately it was his escape boat.

Down below, he could see the guards having a hard time with weaving through the thick crowds. They hadn't noticed he was on higher grounds yet. He smirked inwardly to himself.

"He's on the rooftop!" So some guard finally noticed, Alex mused.

"Shoot him down!"

"Here, this way. We can climb up the roof over there."

Some guards attempted to climb up a roof nearby. He unhooked the fish and pelted them at the guards. The fishy projectiles smacked all the guards he threw at, causing them to lose their grip and fall back down. When he ran out of fish, he whacked them with the metal rod. A couple guards managed to get on a roof and were jumping from roof to roof after him.

Meanwhile, simultaneously, bullets and knives were whistling in the air all around him.

Too soon Alex could see he would run of reachable roofs to leap to. The next roof was an incredibly large span. Refusing to stop, as there were guards right behind him, he hefted up the metal rod and used it as a pole vault, launching himself to the next roof. The guards stopped at the edge of the previous roof, unable to go on. One didn't stop in time and tumbled off.

"See you later!" Alex called over his shoulder with glee.

The guards cursed at him colourfully much to Alex's pleasure.

After several more roofs, he jumped down and landed on sacks of potatoes. _This is going to bruise,_ Alex thought, wincing a bit.

He stood up, brushed off some dirt and jogged off in the direction of the sea.

Unfortunately, he _still_ had a bunch of guards at his tail (the ones who didn't climb up a roof)_, _so he ran faster.

Alex was growing tired, his adrenaline was slowly depleting and the guards were catching up.

The leader, surprisingly, still kept up, even with his heaving. His hatred for Alex was fuelling him on. He could tell once Alex got to the jet boat, it would be over and he would be on his merry way. He could also tell that although the boat was really close, it was really far too. Alex had kept this quick pace for a long time, but he was starting to recede.

The guards in front of the leader were gaining on the puny boy. He couldn't wait to get his hands on Rider. He would crush him till he was no more.

Trying to get away, the leader could see Alex had accidentally dropped a wooden box from without noticing. He smiled wolfishly, knowing that it must've been important and if they held it hostage, Alex wouldn't be able to leave until he got it back. At the very least, he would have to come back for it.

The guards in front realized this too, for they slowed down. They walked over to the box and picked it up.

"Yoo-hoo! Rider! We think we've got something of yours!"

The leader snatched the box from the guard once he caught up. "You're going to have to come back here if you want it back!"

Alex turned around, spotting the box in the leader's hand. Strangely, instead of panic on his face, there was a smile. "Oh no, that's for you. A parting gift, so to speak, to show you my gratitude for your hospitality."

The leader quickly dropped the box when he saw what was inside. Rolling out of it was a stun grenade. Before anyone could take a single step, it exploded with a blinding white light and the loudest bang ever.

Alex ran the rest of the way to the jet boat, grinning.

He hopped into the jet boat. "Let's leave before they throw rocks at us."

"Must your exits always have to be so... flamboyant and dramatic?" His partner asked, speeding the jet boat away. "Why not try keeping a low profile?"

"Where's the fun in that? Besides, I like to make unforgettable impressions. I have a reputation to uphold. Hang on a moment."

His partner stopped the jet boat, letting it idle in the water.

Alex stood up and turned around, looking at the leader who was at the shore, fuming.

Cupping his hands to the side of his mouth, Alex yelled, "Don't worry! I'll remember to send you a postcard once I get home!" He waved, smiling smugly as the jet boat started up again.

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><p>So did you like it? Review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Hey. Long time no write, huh? I won't pile you guys with excuses because I've got a hunch that you didn't click on this story to read what excuses I have.

Disclaimer - I don't own Alex Rider, and I never will.

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><p>After the shore disappeared into the distance, and they were both sure that rocks weren't going to be thrown at them, Alex's partner turned to him and gave him a half-amused, half-disapproving look.<p>

Alex smiled rather sheepishly, knowing the disapproving part was from the injuries the stunt caused. "I actually feel better than I look."

"Never mind; the first aid kit's at the back."

"Thanks, Ben."

He took out the first aid kit and set to work, patching himself up the best he could.

Ben became his partner when he accepted Blunt's offer of a full-time agent position with salary, proper rest time and everything. It was true he still longed to be a schoolboy and wasn't really ready to serve MI6 at his own will at the young age of fifteen, but what choice did he have? Jack returned to America, for her dying father, and maybe, just maybe, it would be best if she stayed there. Alex told her that much. He didn't want to intrude into her life anymore. With Jack gone – his last, weak link to any normalcy – he gave up. What was the point in keeping up this flimsy charade? _How _could he keep it with Jack gone? He had finally chosen espionage because really, there was no other world that would want him.

As a good-bye gift, Jack gave Alex an old-fashioned spyglass. Bronze, soft leather wrapping the mid-section of the short telescope, with a newer glass eyepiece and lens for a clear view.

"_So you'll always spot the enemies long before they approach. See all and know all."_

"_Jack, you know I'm probably never going to use this."_

"_It's still good for smacking intruders."_

"_Thanks, Jack." _

"_You'll be the best spy, Alex. The one who is still standing when everyone else isn't. Remember to be safe for me."_

"_I will."_

_Then she was gone, and the house became as quiet as a faint whisper. It felt colder too, without Jack's sunny presence. The only warmth he felt was from the worn leather of the spyglass resting in his grasp._

Now, he would occasionally turn the spyglass around in his hands and inspect the fine details. Oddly enough, it reminded him of only good memories of Jack, and not her abandonment, if you could call it that. Alex usually used the term "departure" over "abandonment". In truth, it _was_ his idea, but it still hurt to some extent. He learned to live with it.

But looking at the spyglass never hurt for whatever reason, and Alex was grateful for that.

He sighed as he rummaged through the first aid kit for more bandages.

Things were different now, for the better, he tried to convince himself. For one, he didn't have to worry about Jack or Tom or Sabina's safety, as he was far from them now. Sometimes, he actually had some fun during the mission, like this one. And the pay – it was huge. Along with the recent missions he did with Ben, MI6 had also paid Alex for the previous, unofficial ones he took on. With so much money, and more to come from Ian when he turned eighteen, he could easily purchase a decent house, but he preferred staying at his Chelsea home. The money was kept mainly in a Swiss bank account, but some of it was stashed in other various bank accounts around the world and, of course, also in a jar under his bed (you never know). Besides the wonderful, ridiculously high salary, being partners with Ben was definitely a plus. He finally had someone to fall back on if he screwed up, someone to trust, to talk to about his worries (both about the missions they were taking on and other things) – just someone he could lean on who wouldn't die on him, backstab him, always came through, and wasn't scared away by him.

God he sounded sappy, but it was so damn true.

He was glad Ben was his partner. They understood each other, and that in itself was something Alex felt eternally blessed for. Not many people really understood him. They only saw a part of Alex, but hardly ever the whole Alex. Other people didn't get why he did some things or what sort of things Alex needed. Ben did. He didn't approve of everything, of course, but there was an understanding between them and he didn't interfere (usually).

They were also always watching each others' backs. Ben even agreed to tell Tom – his best friend, despite everything– at first notice (meaning _before _MI6) if anything (one thing, actually) were to happen to him and that was if he were to leave this world. In reply, Ben had said rather seriously that Alex wasn't about to die any time soon.

"_You're never too young to die. Isn't that what they all say? And it's true."_

"_Alex. We are not having this conversation. You're not. Going. To _die_. At. Fifteen. Not on my watch." _

"_You don't know that."_

"Alex!_ I'm not going to let you die."_

"_Alright... but whatever happens, happens."_

"_You're the last person who should be saying that. Aren't you the kid who defied all the laws of nature?"_

"_Not gravity. I'm not floating right now, am I?"_

"_You know what I mean. A spy at fourteen. A very accomplished one, to be exact. And actually... you _did _defy that law."_

"_Huh?"_

"_The law of gravity: you went to space, remember?"_

_Alex smiled. It felt good; he hadn't been smiling very much lately._

The memory had Alex smiling just as fondly as the time he had that conversation.

Finishing up, he returned all the supplies back into the first aid kit and went to the front, joining Ben.

"So, did you get it?"

"Of course," Alex replied. There was a quick flash of white as sunlight glinted off the black USB Alex twirled with his finger by the cord attached to it, before placing it back into his side pants pocket.

"Once we get back on land, we'll be taking the first flight back to England and dropping that USB to the bank."

"Aw... couldn't we stop for ice-cream first?" Alex pouted jokingly.

"No, Alex," Ben said, mock-sternly. "But I'll get you one right after we debrief at the bank. Sounds fair?"

"Okay."

For a couple of minutes, Alex watched as they zipped through the water, leaving white bubbly foam in their wake.

"Oh, and just so you know, I'm holding you to that promise. I know this nice fancy French café that charges ten pounds per scoop and an addition two pounds for sprinkles."

"Seriously?"

"Yep, the ice-cream there is _that _good. Either that or it's the type of food for celebrities. You know, the kind that's expensive, but tastes like cardboard. Hmm... I'm thinking of a triple scoop ice-cream cone."

"Thirty pounds for ice-cream? I'm not paying for that," Ben said.

"Oh, but you are. You just promised."

"Like hell I will."

"We'll see," Alex smirked.

Alex dozed off a couple of times for short periods, alternatively resting and taking in the beauty of the endless blue sea. He was drinking in all the scenery and exoticness of this mission. If his next mission was at some dull place – say, a factory – he'd have to deal with ugly surroundings for some while: barbed wire on chain-linked fences, grey buildings and chimneys pouring out thick, black smoke. Not very eye-appealing.

After waking up from one of his short naps, Alex started feeling very warm, and wondered if it was because of the blazing sun. It was strange – he hadn't noticed how hot it was before. Now that he thought about it, he felt slightly feverish, with a growing headache. He had never been sea-sick and he was doubtful that was the reason, but he couldn't find another logical explanation.

He opened his mouth to ask Ben if he had something for the sea-sickness, but instead a small moan came out.

Ben glanced over. "Is something the matter?"

"Yeah. I feel like my head's being split into two. I think I'm sea-sick."

"You don't look very well."

In fact, Alex was starting to feel downright terrible. He didn't understand how things turned downhill so quickly. His head was hurting, and he felt clammy all over from cold sweat. The wind around him did nothing to cool him down. Instead, it seemed to make his head dizzy. To make matters worse, his arm was throbbing, and there were parts of his body that was aching.

"Is there something I can take? I might just puke right here, right now."

"In the first aid kit. Do you need some help getting it?" Ben asked, concern in his voice.

Alex waved away his offer.

"I'll be fine." He stood up in his seat and was about to walk to the back to retrieve the pills, when his vision suddenly turned off and he saw black. It came back just as quickly. He wobbled unsteadily from the moment of disorientation.

"Alex?" Ben looked at him with worry.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry... " Alex never did finish that sentence, for at that very moment, his eyelids grew so heavy it was impossible to keep them open. Knees buckling, blackness seized him, leaving him one last, distant thought before he completely lost consciousness: _when on earth did he become the type who got sea-sick? Because he was pretty sure it never affected him before. _

He didn't hear Ben's frantic cries of his name.

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><p>I found this chapter a bit... weird. I might just rewrite it. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. Reviews are always appreciated. storage-jar


	3. Chapter 3

First off, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed because I can't _believe _I got so many reviews for the last chapter. Oh sure, I was hoping. But I didn't think it would happen. Thanks to everyone who story alerted or fav.'ed also.

Virtual cookies to everyone who guessed what happened to Alex correctly :)

The first part of this chapter should be in italics, but personally, I get irritated when I have to read huges sections in bold or italics (don't know about you). It hurts my head. So instead, I've indicated that it's a dream sequence in case anybody gets confused.

**Disclaimer - AH owns the Alex Rider series; I do not. **

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><p><em>:Dream sequence begins:<em>

Looking around, Alex could tell he was in some sort of leafy meadow, the kind someone might find accidentally on a hiking trip.

The sky was calm and grey. It was breezy where he was standing, but not cold.

He saw a woman not too far from him sitting next to a violet-blue flower he couldn't identify. He walked over to the woman and sat down next to her, unsure of what to say. She turned to him. Soft brown eyes on a gentle-looking face gave him a knowing look. Eyes widening, Alex realized who she was –

"Mum?"

"Yes, Alex." She too glanced around at their surroundings. "It's quite lovely here, isn't it? Peaceful and relaxing to the mind."

Alex nodded.

After thinking for a bit, Alex said, "I'm not really here with you, am I?"

Helen shook her head a little sadly. "No, Alex."

"Then... where am I?" Alex didn't mean the location of the meadow, and hoped he wouldn't need to clarify.

Helen pursed her lips, contemplating. "There's a tricky question with many answers."

Alex waited for her to elaborate.

"On Earth, I suppose," she mused, "More specifically, in a small hospital at Ardabil, but that isn't what you are looking for." She gazed at him. "Mentally, you've retreated to the back of your mind, to heal."

"To heal?" Alex asked, somewhat surprised. And did she say _a small hospital_? Why was he in a hospital? He felt fine right now...

His mum picked the violet-blue flower from the ground. It was pretty, the petals growing delicately in a lobe-like shape, some resembling petite hats. It was stalk-like, with buds branching off.

"_Aconitum napellus,_" she said, twirling the stem in her fingers, observing it. "It's a species of _Aconitum, _sometimes known as aconite or Devil's helmet, probably because of the shape the flower often comes in." She traced one of the petite hats.

Alex stared at the flower.

"Alex." His eyes flickered from the flower to his mother's sad face. "You were poisoned. That shuriken that hit your arm was laced with a liquid containing some of this flower."

Alex touched his arm. It felt oddly numb.

"Know that this was never meant to happen." Somehow, Alex knew she wasn't referring to the poisoning.

She continued. "Both your father and I are very proud of everything you've done so far, but ... we would've been so happy in France." She had tears welling up in her eyes, and he could see that she was taking all the blame for his current situation.

"It's okay, mum. I know it's not your fault."

She nodded wordlessly, her eyes still distant and sad.

"I'm fine, mum, really. Just seeing you now makes everything alright." He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She smiled, blinking away tears. "I'm too emotional."

He smiled back, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It felt strange talking to his mum, comforting her, like an ordinary boy would, even though it was just a dream. He liked the way his insides felt warmer and perhaps brighter, too, when he managed to get his mother smiling again. Was this the kind of things he was missing all along because his parents died when he was so young? How he wished he had more time with his parents. He loved Ian and all, but it just wasn't the same.

"Now _you_ look like the one who's down," Helen commented, looking at him questioningly.

"It's nothing." Alex tried to brush it off.

"Come here," Helen said, gesturing with her hands. She had put the _aconitum napellus _down.

Alex came closer.

Helen reached out and embraced Alex with her arms like he was a young child. His head rested gently against her as she fingered through his blond hair. Alex was surprised at the contact, but instantly relaxed.

"Happiness is where the heart is," she said.

"Isn't it supposed to be '_Home _is where the heart is'?" He shifted his head and glanced up at her.

She laughed a tinkling laughter. "Well, yes," she admitted, "but both seem to work, no? Listen to your heart and you'll find what you're looking for."

"What I'm looking for?" Alex frowned. "I'm not looking for anything."

She shifted Alex so he was no longer in her embrace. Her hands held onto either side of his arms and she gave him a stern look. "Tell me, Alex. What do you really want?"

"Normalcy, I guess. But that's gone down the drain." He shrugged the best he could with her hands on his arms.

"No. That's not what you're looking for. Try again."

Alex thought hard. "Love?" Alex was pretty sure that wasn't the case, but he figured it was a reasonable response.

"Nope. As much as I think you may be lacking that, I know you realize the few important people in your life do care for you."

"Then what am I looking for?"

"Think Alex, think. You know." She said it faintly, and as Alex looked around, it seemed everything was fading away, including his mother. Everything was being swallowed up by a bright shining light that came from nowhere.

_Wait, _Alex thought desperately. He wasn't finished talking with his mum. He hadn't figured out what he was looking for.

_:Dream sequence ends:_

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><p>Slowly, Alex opened his eyes to more blinding light. It took some time for his eyes to adjust. Glancing around, he was indeed in a hospital. His arm was wrapped in a white bandage. Ben was sitting on a chair; his whole body was slouched forward, folding in half so that his face and arms could rest on the side of Alex's bed.<p>

Shifting a bit in search for a pitcher of water or something, Alex tried to keep his movements minimal to not disturb Ben. Ben woke up anyways.

Ben's hair appeared dishevelled from sleep, but he made no attempt to fix it. Perhaps he liked it that way, Alex thought randomly, or, more likely, he didn't notice.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Ben asked, stretching.

"Like a microwaved biscuit."

"Ah," Ben said, nodding understandingly. "It'll pass."

"You have no idea how that feels, do you?" Alex said, quirking an eyebrow up, skeptic.

Ben laughed. "Well, now we both know you're well enough to detect my lies."

"Could you get me some water?"

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Once Ben returned with a paper cup filled with water, Alex sipped some of it carefully, drenching his dry throat. He placed the paper cup, now half empty, onto the little table next to the bed. He sat there, not having much energy to do anything else.

"It's a good thing I got you here in time. Any longer and there might've been permanent after affects." Alex didn't need to ask what the permanent after affects were. It usually meant death, and if not so, then maybe a coma he'd never wake up from.

"You were poisoned with ac... aconiti... something."

"_Aconitum napellus,_" Alex supplied.

"Yeah, that. How did you know?"

"Someone told me."

"The doctor saw you already?"

"No."

Ben stared at him, confused. "Then –"

He was interrupted by a dark-skinned male doctor entering the room. "I see you're up. How are you doing?" He spoke with a distinct accent.

"Fine," Alex replied, "I feel weak all over though."

"That's perfectly normal." He was intently looking at his clipboard, asking him various questions, and noting down the responses. Pleased with all of Alex's answers, he said, "It appears to be that you are healing accordingly. A little more rest, and you can leave the hospital tomorrow morning. Push the button if you need anything." He gestured to a red button built to the side of the bed.

After a few more comments about not straining himself until he was fully rested and well, the doctor left the room to visit other patients.

Alex shifted his pillow and scooted down from his sitting position to a laying position. He muscles were bone-tired in a way he wasn't use to. He felt quite helpless and vulnerable like this. He despised this.

"I sent the intel ahead," Ben said, referring to the USB.

Alex just nodded weakly.

"You look tired. Do you want me to leave so you can have some rest?"

"No, no, I'm not tired."

Ben's face took on a skeptic look. "Oh really?"

"Well, not in the sense you're talking about. I feel physically tired, but I'm not sleepy."

"Still, you should probably get some rest. I'm going to go get some lunch, alright?

"Okay."

"I'll save you some flat bread and rice if you want me to."

"Sure." Alex stifled a yawn. It turned out he was more tired than he was willing to admit.

"You _are _tired. I saw that yawn," Ben said.

"Am not. Now shoo. I need some peace."

"Going now. See you later." Ben waved and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Not too long after Ben left, Alex dozed off. He slept dreamlessly.

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><p>The next time he woke up, it was midnight, judging by how dark it was. Checking the watch that was always on his wrist, he found that he was correct. That meant he slept for the whole afternoon. He figured maybe he had <em>too <em>much sleep. His mind felt groggy, but he was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep again all the way to morning.

On the little table beside the bed sat a takeout box with fried rice. Stacked on top of the takeout box were some flat bread neatly wrapped in napkins. He felt touched Ben left food for him so if he were hungry when he woke up, he'd have something delicious to eat. He didn't feel hungry though.

He got up and walked over to the window. Opening the window was difficult. He was still weak and the window was probably not opened regularly. The stars and the moon were out and he tried to name the constellations he knew. He stood there for a while, just staring into the night sky.

He started getting cold so he closed the window (with some effort). He was walking back to his bed when he heard the doorknob turn slowly, as if not wanting to wake the person inside the room.

Alex froze.

It could've been a nurse, or a doctor checking on him. It could've been Ben. But something in the way the doorknob turned seemed sinister. And Alex trusted his instincts more than ever.

He quickly scanned around.

His mind went on overdrive, thinking through all his options in milliseconds.

The window? He doubted he could fit through it. Besides, even if he could, how could he even open it in his condition fast enough?

There were no weapons around, and no objects he could use, unless he wanted to chuck some flat beard at the guy.

Fighting was definitely out.

Hide under the bed? That was a fair idea, but suddenly he spotted the red button. If he could just hide under the bed and reach around to press the button, he could alert the doctors and nurses...

Right at this moment, the man entered. The man seemed to have realized Alex wasn't asleep and stopped in his advance, surprised.

The red button was unfortunately on the side of the bed closer to the door.

Alex leaped to the bed. The man snapped out of his reverie and came over, imposingly. Alex shot out his hand to press the button only to be stopped by a beefy arm with a strangling grip. Alex struggled, knocking over the fried rice and flat beard. He was about to shout when the man's other hand came over his mouth and nose with a thick cloth.

He held his breath and tried to punch the guy in the gut, but it came out weak and sloppy. If he were in his normal state, he was sure he could've winded the man at least.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, he breathed in the cloying, too-sweet perfume of the chloroform. It made his head spin and his eyes drift close, despite his strong will fighting it.

* * *

><p>Information on the posionous flower was from Wikipedia.<p>

More action next chapter if you felt this one was moving too slowly (but you already knew that, didn't you?) Please review. -s.j


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer - _Alex Rider and anything else you recognize belongs to AH. I merely play with his characters.

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><p>Alex woke up with an aching pain in his shoulders. As he tried to shift around, he realized his hands were handcuffed behind him, and probably for a long time. However long he had been unconscious. At least most of his strength returned to him. That was probably the only positive thing in this whole situation.<p>

Managing to sit up despite the handcuffs, he found that he was in a small cell, with a thin mattress in the corner and an open doorway leading to a chemical toilet.

Alex sighed. He was going to be here a while.

Normally, he would've looked around for an escape, but it was useless with these god-forsaken handcuffs. They cut off the blood flow in his hands making them feel numb and his arms were twisted back in an awkward position, hence the aching shoulders. How did they expect Alex to _do _anything? He couldn't even push the so-called mattress to barricade the entrance. Sure, it wouldn't have stopped whoever captured him from entering, but it would've been fun watching the guy get annoyed from trying to open a door with a mattress in the way.

After a couple of minutes, Alex finally pressed a button on his watch by flexing his fingers in ways he didn't think was possible. He had activated a distress signal, so MI6 could track him down and come save him. Well... usually he saved himself before they reached him, but whatever. He told himself that he had made some progress in his escape, however futile.

He walked over to the mattress and sat down. He pulled the scratchy blanket on the mattress over his legs. Might as well get comfortable, he figured. It was going to be a long wait. He thought about random things for the next few hours.

It was so ... _boring_ being stuck in here. Alex used to panic and frantically try to calm himself down, worrying about what his captors might do to him, but now, all he wanted to do was bang his head against the wall.

Or call out to the people who brought him here and see if he could chat with them.

He hadn't realized he fell asleep until he woke up to the sound of the door opening.

In the doorway stood the leader of the guards, the man who had vowed to 'pummel him into dust after he tore him into pieces' during his chase in the marketplace. He must've been back in Rasht, then. Alex had more or less deducted it was them who captured him with so much time to muse about it.

"Finally you're here. I was so bored out of my mind, I must've fallen asleep." (Which was true.)

"Well you won't be bored once I'm through with you," the leader said, smiling vindictively.

He clapped twice sharply, and the two guards behind him entered the room. As they approached him, Alex stood to meet them, as if complying. When they got close enough, he landed a kick on one guard and spun, about to knock down the other guard. That was until he heard the quiet click of the safety of a gun.

He froze mid-spin.

"If you don't want bullets in your body, then come along, now, _Alex Rider._"

Alex lowered his leg, but didn't move. "So you finally found out who I am?"

The one guard on the floor was groaning and getting up. The other guard looked at him warily.

"I admit that when the Boss warned us of a spy, we didn't suspect that it was you at all." The leader shrugged. "But now that you're here, don't think you're ever going to get away. You're going to pay for all those years of planning loss, those snarky comments and that 'parting gift' that wasn't nice at all." The leader's expression became so cold at the end that Alex would've shivered if he wasn't as experienced as he was.

"Gladly," Alex replied, giving a fake smile. He was indeed a bit nervous, but he wasn't about to display it to them.

In the end, Alex was dragged to another room.

He was shoved into a chair, his handcuffs were taken off, and each of his limbs were swiftly tied to the arms and legs of the chair correspondingly, the barrel of the gun never leaving sight of Alex during all this.

The two guards left. He was all alone with the leader. The leader placed his gun back into his holster.

"Before we begin, I'd like to let you know that I'm a man of my word."

"Oh, so you're the honorable type, are you now?" Alex asked sarcastically.

"Yes," the leader said, ignoring Alex's tone. "And I can promise you this: you're not going to enjoy our little session together."

"If that's the case, you're succeeding quite well. I can't say I'm enjoying listening to you blabber on and on," Alex muttered to himself.

The leader didn't hear.

"My name's Juno. Just so you know who to swear at for causing so much pain."

Clearly, a sadist. But all Alex could think of to say was, "Juno? Isn't that name a bit girly?"

Juno frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Juno's the Roman goddess of marriage and childbirth," Alex said, snickering quietly at the end. He really shouldn't goad the head guard, leader, whatever, but he couldn't help himself.

"My mother named me after her favourite flower. Not some goddess of _happy relationships and babies._"

"Which makes it _so _less girly," Alex murmured.

Unfortunately, Juno heard the comment.

He looked ready to punch Alex in the face. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. "Another thing you should know about me is that I don't take jabs at my name so lightly. It annoys me to no end. I like my name. I like that my mother gave me that name. I don't understand why anybody would think my name makes me any less masculine just because it's also the name of a flower. Do I look like a girl?"

Alex didn't reply. There were many things he could've said, none of which would help his cause.

Juno seemed pleased with his lack of response. "Well, since we've got the name bit cleared up, we can begin."

He walked over to a table off to the side of the room.

Alex couldn't see what was on the table, but he could guess from the cruel look on Juno's face before he walked to the table that there was probably an array of torturous devices.

When Juno returned, he was carrying a wicked-looking knife. Very sharp and lethal, Alex noted.

"Let's start with that pretty face of yours," Juno said, a twisted smile forming on his face.

"Let's not," Alex said under his breath, mentally pleading MI6 to come bursting in before permanent damage was done.

Just as Juno was about to cut his face up, Alex all the while trying his best to keep his features defiant – well, as defiant as one could manage with an approaching knife – there were several sharp, quick raps of knocking on the door.

Juno stopped his progress and went over to the door. Alex just let out a mental sigh of relief. He was safe from the knife, if only for a few short moments.

Alex could see a guard at the door, whispering something to Juno. Juno just looked angry.

The guard was just leaving, when he turned back, as if having second thoughts.

"I mean it, Juno," the guard said, no longer whispering, "Don't hurt the boy, or else the Boss will be angry."

"Yes, yes, I know. You can go now," Juno said, in an irritated voice.

Juno walked over to him, and sliced off the ropes binding his legs to the chair.

"So, what was all that about?" Alex asked.

The man just growled, not answering. An evil gleam suddenly passed over his eyes. When Juno cut off the ropes around his arms, he "accidentally" sliced Alex's arms as well.

"Ow!" Alex jerked his arm, in surprise. "Didn't that other guy say you're not supposed to hurt me?"

"Oh, did I hurt you? I'm sorry. Does this feel any better?" Juno dug the knife deeper into his arm. Alex just gritted his teeth.

When Juno sliced his other arm, Alex didn't say anything.

"Get up," Juno commanded; pulling Alex up, his grip right on one of Alex's wounded arms. Tears sprung to Alex's eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.

Juno escorted Alex back to his cell. _Dumped was more like it, _Alex reflected. _At least he didn't handcuff me again._

The next time the door opened, the guard who had interrupted his torture session with Juno came in with a tray of food and a roll of bandages.

"Why isn't Juno allowed to hurt me? Not that it stopped him or anything."

The guard set down the tray, ignoring him.

"Wait!" Alex called, but the guard had already turned and walked out the door, locking it behind him.

A glass of water and a moldy ham sandwich sat on a metal tray. Alex sighed, and brought the tray and roll of bandages over to the mattress.

He used a bit of the water to wash his wounds, and carefully bandaged them.

Glad that he wasn't going to starve, or die of thirst, he still wished they gave him a steak instead, or at the very least, soup. It wasn't so much food preference, but the cutlery that went with it. A sandwich required no knife, fork or spoon. He wasn't sure what he'd do with a spoon, but it still could be a weapon. Giving up on trying to picture brutally stabbing someone to death with a blunt spoon, he glanced at his meal more thoughtfully this time. He longed for the box of fried rice and flat bread Ben had left for him.

Picking out the moldy parts of the bread, he ate the ham sandwich slowly and methodically. He drank the whole glass of water, despite how saving it would've been smarter.

Looking at the metal tray, an idea slowly formed. The idea was classic, and without a doubt, cliché, but the guards might just be dumb enough to fall for it.

Turns out, Alex was right.

An unsuspecting guard walked into the cell to pick up the metal tray. He couldn't see Alex anywhere, or the tray, for that matter – only the empty glass – and walked further into the room, frowning and scratching his head.

Meanwhile, Alex slipped out from behind the door. (The door opened inwards, so when the guard opened the door, it hid Alex from view). He silently walked up behind the guard, tray in hand. He smashed the tray into the guard's head, knocking him out. He pocketed the keys he found on the guard and also took the guard's gun, which he tucked under his belt.

It was tiresome work, but Alex dragged the guard onto the mattress and threw the scratchy blanket over him, to buy himself more time. If someone came into the room, they would think Alex was asleep.

He peeked out of the doorway and warily crept out when there was nobody. Working quickly, he closed the door quietly and locked it.

He hadn't been walking for very long before he heard voices in the distance behind him.

Silently, Alex cursed. He hurried ahead before the voices noticed him, only to run straight into Juno, who just turned a corner.

No doubt Juno was shocked, but he recovered quickly, and managed to grab Alex's wrist and cuff him. Using his free hand, Alex reached back for the gun. Alex drew the gun, smashed it into Juno's head, momentarily dazing him. By then, the voices that he heard earlier reached them, and immediately each guard grabbed some part of Alex and shoved him to the ground.

Alex was in his cell again. _Back to square one,_ Alex thought.

This time, his wrists were handcuffed and his ankles were tied together tightly with some rope. His mouth was duct-taped. A blindfold was around his eyes, for no apparent reason, except to maybe annoy him. He _knew _he was in the same cell.

_Make that negative square one, _Alex corrected.

Some while later, Juno came for Alex again. The rope around his ankles was gone, the blindfold taken off, and the duct-taped ripped mercilessly off. He felt that half of his lips wanted to come off with the duct tape.

"Where are we going?"

No response.

"You're not going to try to torture me again, are you?"

They just kept walking. In Alex's case, shoved along.

Finally, Juno said, "No. But your new owner most definitely will."

"Wait- what? New owner? I'm not an object here!"

Juno smiled briefly. It was an ugly smile, a cross between a grimace and a smirk.

"Well, you are now. Deal with it. My Boss sold you for a lot of money. Frankly, more than I think you're worth. Turns out, there are people who must hate you more than we do to be willing to pay such a high price."

"How do you know they hate me?" After all, it _could _be MI6. They could've been the ones who bought him back.

"Our only condition was that you had to be killed within a month of purchase. If not, we'd finish the job ourselves."

"And they agreed?"

"It's all in the papers. We arranged everything." Still, MI6 could back on their side of the deal. It wouldn't be the first time.

"I see." It was bloody insane. They were actually selling him like cattle. Wasn't that illegal? Alex mentally snorted. Teenage spies were illegal, too, even if he were a full-time agent with a forged age.

"So... who bought me, anyways?" Alex asked innocently, like the matter was of no interest. He _had _to confirm it was MI6, or some company with the same acronym as MI6, which would be them in disguise. Would they come in the form of Macy's Institute of Sardines? Perhaps, Myxomatosis Informers of South Acton?

"SCORPIA." In that one word, the weak belief that MI6 would treat him better because he was an actual agent now came crashing down. The sad truth – the one he was refused to believe, desperately clinging to some small form of hope – was that MI6 didn't come to save him this time, previously, and most likely wouldn't ever in the future.

Once again, he could easily say he had the luck of the devil. Escaping one danger (i.e. face used as carving board) only to fall into a greater one. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

"Your new owners want you unconscious during the exchange so...," Juno reached for a syringe from a pocket and stabbed it into the bend of Alex's elbow, maybe a tad bit too gleefully, "Sweet dreams, Rider. Because when you wake, you'll wish you were dead before the month is up."

Alex's eyes closed. He felt like his brain was shutting down. Alex concluded that MI6 did stand for something other than Military Intelligence, Sector 6.* _MI6: Manipulative Individuals of Self-Sufficiency. _That summed them up quite neatly enough, those bastards.

* * *

><p><em>* <em>I think that's what it stands for. I don't have a book handy on me to check. Anyone know what it is?

I know updates are kind of ... capricious, but bare with me. I know what I'm doing with this story (hopefully). Well, it's pretty late here (or early, depending on how you look at it), from where I am, so if you could spare a few moments to drop a review, I'd greatly appreciate it. It'll convince me that my updating efforts in the wee morning weren't wasted.

(storage-jar)


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer - I do not own Alex Rider, etc., etc.**

Now that _that's _cleared up, onwards!

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><p>The moment Ben Daniels stepped foot on British soil, he immediately hailed a taxi to Liverpool Street. Dragging along a poorly-packed suitcase, all eyes were on his dishevelled state when he entered the quiet reception area of the Royal and General bank. Usually, he didn't like being stared at, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. He marched up to the receptionist, a young lady with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.<p>

"Hello sir, how may I –"

"I need to see Blunt and Mrs. Jones," Ben impatiently cut off.

"I'm sorry, but there are no such people who go by those names working here." The receptionist gave him a sympathetic look. "Maybe if you tell me what you're –"

Ben just shook his head. "I need to see them."

"Sir, they don't work here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave ..."

"No." Ben's tone gave no room for argument. The receptionist stayed quiet, eyes wide. "I don't have time for this. Tell Blunt this is an emergency; that Alex is in trouble. If he dies because you're being so _goddamn _thick to _not _know when to keep the act and when to drop it, I'm going to hold you personally responsible. Is Blunt here _now_?"

"Of-of course. I'll let him know you're here," she stuttered. With shaking fingers, she dialled up to Blunt.

Ben took a deep breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He didn't mean to scare the lady, but honestly, this was a matter of Alex surviving or not.

"He said he's in an important conference, but he'll be right with you as soon as he's done. You can take a seat in the meantime," she said, recovering.

"How long?"

"He didn't say specifically. Maybe ten minutes?"

"Thank-you," Ben said fervently.

He lugged his suitcase towards a waiting chair and sat down. He stared at the suitcase, filled with his and Alex's things. Ben wasn't sure why he packed. When he saw the mess in the hospital with the fried rice spilled everywhere in Alex's room and the empty bed, he knew Alex was captured, and that he had to return to England right that instant. But still, he first returned to the hotel they were temporarily staying at and began to pack – if you could call cramming things in a suitcase that. Maybe there was something calming about that simple action. To be doing something useful with space to think around it.

Ten minutes became twenty minutes. Twenty became thirty. Thirty –

"It's been forty-five minutes," growled Ben. "I thought it was only going to take only ten."

"Well... I don't know..."

Ben stood up and walked over to the receptionist, abandoning his suitcase. "Maybe you should call again."

"Mr. Blunt wouldn't like to be disturbed..."

"Fine then." Ben's patience was finally pushed past the limit. He was about to stomp his way up to Blunt's office, invited or not, when the intercom from the receptionist's desk droned, "_Send Agent Daniels up" _in a dull voice.

Ben glared at the intercom before heading off to the elevator. His finger stabbed at the button that would lead to Blunt's floor.

When Ben entered the room, Blunt was looking over some files and Mrs. Jones was sitting to Blunt's left with a laptop open in front of her. After a long moment, Mrs. Jones glanced up, finally acknowledging his presence.

"Hello, Agent Daniels. Have a seat." Mrs. Jones gestured to one of the chairs.

She continued. "From what I heard, the mission was a success besides the ... mishap ... with Agent Rider. The USB has been more than helpful. In fact, just now, I've been looking through it." Ben could see the familiar flash drive sticking out of the laptop's port. He hadn't noticed previously, but under the room light with no sunlight to reflect off of it, he could see a small lotus flower insignia engraved on the end of it.

"How is Alex, anyway?" Mrs. Jones inquired.

"Alex's been captured."

"How do you know this?" Blunt spoke for the first time.

"When I returned to the hospital, he wasn't there."

"Perhaps he wandered off on his own out of curiosity. It wouldn't be the first time," Blunt replied smoothly.

"The food I had left for him the night before he was captured was all over the place. His sheets on the bed were strewn. Clearly, there was struggle in the room and he didn't leave on his free will."

"We'll have to look into that." Mrs. Jones nodded in agreement, while unwrapping a peppermint and popping it into her mouth.

"What is there to look into?" Ben demanded. "I think it's quite obvious what happened." He paused. "Has he sent a distress signal?"

Blunt looked over to Mrs. Jones. "Has he?"

"Yes, he has."

"There you go," Ben said.

"But is it not possible that he pressed it by mistake? Or activated the signal unknowingly when he bumped his wrist against a wall?" Blunt coolly asked.

Ben Daniels was furious, but willed himself to not show it on his face. He took a deep, calming breath. He knew they were difficult people to talk to – no, scratch that; they were impossible – but this was beyond absurd. Did they honestly believe Alex would "accidentally" press the distress button when he wasn't really in trouble? Ben realized a fragment of truth in Blunt's words. Alex had once told him they didn't care about him. Ben hadn't believed it at the time. Surely, they weren't that heartless...

"_But from what I heard, you're their indispensable agent."_

"_It doesn't matter. They don't send back-up. Ever."_

"_Maybe they're just late? And missed you because you've already escaped by yourself."_

"_I used to convince myself that. In fact, I still do, when I'm that desperate .But they don't. That's the truth. They think I can handle it myself. That – or they pretend I wasn't even captured in the first place."_

But now, he realized the trueness in Alex's words. They were thick-skinned enough to claim Alex wasn't kidnapped even with himself pushing Alex's case forward. They just couldn't care less.

"I don't think he pressed it by mistake" – deep breath (_he would_ not _get angry_) – "it's just seems unlikely, you know?" – He tried to say that with as much sincerity as he could. It wouldn't help Alex if he couldn't even speak rationally and reasonably with their employers, however impossible they were. He was pretty sure some sarcasm leaked through even with the effort.

_It couldn't be helped_, Ben thought to himself.

"And, from the fact that he's missing, his room at the hospital looked like there was a fight and he's sent a distress signal, probably _not by accident_," – deep breath (_don't get angry, Ben, don't get angry_) – "I think he's been captured. It all points in that direction." Deep breath.

"You couldn't possible know for sure since the 'captors' haven't left any notes and you didn't see it yourself. Aside from all that, I think you've made quite a plausible point. It won't be ruled out," Blunt said.

Ben hated how Blunt made it appear like Alex being taken was only a small, if not well-reasoned possibility. Like it had never occurred to him before. Like it all made sense, but he still wasn't sure about it, and for Ben's sake, he would look into it.

"In a few days, I'll send some men over to investigate and see what they make of the struggle you say took place. From there, we'll decide on what course of action we should take next to Alex's disappearance."

"I don't think Alex will _last_ that long, if he's been captured." He tried not to let any of his irritation seep through, but it was a lost cause. He looked at Mrs. Jones pleadingly. Alex had told him that Mrs. Jones always had a soft spot for him because of his age and because he reminded her of her lost children. "I mean, Alex is strong for his age and extraordinary no doubt, but I don't think even he can survive through torture or god knows what else those people will do to him for that long."

Mrs. Jones said slowly, "If what Agent Daniels says is true, maybe we _should _send in a rescue team. Agent Daniels could lead it, and Alex would be saved. The whole operation wouldn't take that long anyway, and we would have Alex back in our hands."

Blunt seemed to think about it.

Mrs. Jones went on. "If Alex really is being tortured, and we left him, he would be hospitalized for some time. The sooner we get to him, the less time he'll need to recover. On the other hand, if Alex isn't captured, then this has all been a silly mistake, but no harm done."

Ben could see the calculative look in Blunt's eyes. Blunt eventually nodded, apparently agreeing with Mrs. Jones' reasoning.

"Thank-you," Ben whispered.

"Head down to Smithers and see if he can produce the location of Alex's watch."

Ben looked at Mrs. Jones with a questioning look. "I thought it could only send signals."

"His watch can also continuously send coordinates from when it's first been activated, so we'll be able to pinpoint Alex even if he's moved locations."

Mrs. Jones took out another peppermint.

As she was peeling the wrapper, she said, "Once you're done, come back up and we'll discuss the rescue mission you'll be leading."

Sucking on the mint, Mrs. Jones returned to her work on the laptop, having forgotten about Ben already.

* * *

><p>Alex felt dead. No, he <em>wished <em>he was dead.

Everything hurt.

Currently, he was chained to the walls of some dungeon-like place in the underground area of the Scorpia Headquarters. He was injured all over and was seriously in need of some water. Not that he'd get any.

He didn't dare glance down at the bloody mess that his body became. It was sickening, really, and the last thing he wanted was to puke (that is, if he had any food in his system, which he didn't.) He was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, a delirious state, because of the latest session he had. The man had used only a whip this time, but it had hurt more than ever because of his already existing injuries.

He had screamed and cried and whimpered and begged, like they wanted him to – everything he refused to do in the beginning – but still, they gave him no reprieve. They wouldn't stop hurting him. They wouldn't let him die.

When he first arrived, a guard had took his watch and stepped on it. They allowed him to keep the stud earring though.

"_But it's a gadget, no doubt."_

"_I know," the man with the ginger hair said. "I've even heard that it will explode after a few seconds of removing it."_

"_I'll be careful in disposing it, if that's what you're trying to say."_

"_Oh no. I think we'll let him keep it. What can he do, all chained up like this?"_

_The guard smirked. "Nothing."_

"_Exactly. And I want him to have a way of escaping, yet unable to use it. The pain of how it's there, but out of reach."_

_The ginger-haired man strode over to Alex, and lifted up his chin with a finger._

"_Isn't that right, Rider? Don't you feel that way? If only you could just take that earring, and explode the door with it."_

_Alex was silent._

The truth was, the stud earring _didn't _explode. Many stud earrings Alex wore previously did, but this one was another kind of gadget. It was a recording device that was activated when removed. The backing of the earring could stick to just about any surface, and record up to twenty minutes' worth of conversation before self-destructing. The recorded material would be transmitted to the earring itself, which could be listened to on the computer when plugged into the earphone port. The earring looked too small to fit in an earphone port properly, but Smithers said it would fit in a special way. Alex, who was doubtful when he was first told this, didn't see any reason why not anymore – Smithers was a remarkable gadget-maker.

So, no, Alex did not feel whatever pain the ginger-haired man had intended, but he did feel a loss for the watch. _There went his distress signal._

_And whatever hope he had._

But that wasn't completely true.

Alex was in extreme pain, but the thing about Riders was that they didn't easily break. His soul was intact, and therefore, some smidgen of hope did exist. That was what allowed him to keep fighting despite how much the other part of him – the larger part, by far – wanted to die, wanted to give up.

Faintly, an internal ticking was heard by Alex. Alex distantly knew he didn't have much time left. It was the soft ticking of a backwards clock. While everyone's clock went forward, his was counting down to zero.

He wasn't sure when he started hearing it – it sounded so _real _– but now that it started, there wasn't anything Alex could do except wait.

Alex found he was neither sad nor happy, in the end. It was just how things go.

It was a persistent ticking in the background that wouldn't let Alex sleep, not until it reached the end.

_Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic..._

It was all he could hear, besides his own laboured breaths.

The door to his cell creaked open.

Alex didn't look up; just squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't think he could take any more pain. _No, no, no, _please. _It's too soon. The man wasn't supposed to be back yet. No, please... _

He hadn't even realized he muttered the last part aloud.

"Oh _Alex_... what did they do to you?" It was spoken so softly, Alex was sure it wasn't meant for his ears.

He glanced up with desperate eyes and stared at the man.

"I'm imaging things, aren't I? You're not really there. Nobody's coming," Alex whispered.

Tears began to well up in Alex's eyes and he tried to blink them away, but they spilled over anyway – humiliating tears he couldn't stop. He didn't know why he was crying. He looked at the ground.

The man quickly walked over to Alex and freed him from the chains. With nothing holding Alex up anymore, he fell limp into the man's arms.

He was so tired. More tired than anything else at the moment. He could sleep for a thousand years and not wake.

Almost as if sensing how tired Alex was, the man said, "Sleep, Alex; you're safe now."

* * *

><p>Any guesses to who that person is? I'm a pretty predictable person when writing, so it shouldn't be that hard to figure out... And, I don't write very subtlely (I try, I really do xD). So why are you still reading this story? I don't know. But I promise, if you stick with this story, I won't ditch it and say something like "I've lost all inspiration". The plot has been sorted out.<p>

Drop a review if you can, ok? It'll make my day ;)

{storage-jar}


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